


Miracle Aches

by Percy



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Assassin AU, Assassins, Elementary - Freeform, Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percy/pseuds/Percy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could say that in a murder, the accomplice is even more important than the guilty party. Besides, the accomplice is always cleaner. More precise. More surgical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracle Aches

A clock ticked somewhere. The sky was grey but it soaked up a vague and sickly orange. Beneath the thin and threadbare blankets of smoke, the accomplice stood and watched the horizon melt. Waiting.

If you could see her, you could see the stoop in the way she stands up very straight, aware of everything moving around her. If you looked hard enough, you could see the bodies slung over her shoulder. Targets. Only the first few. Open. Rattling. Light and easy to carry.

Sometimes, the accomplice would wonder how he could stand up so straight and proud. The bodies were so much heavier on his shoulders. They didn't belong to him. How could he breathe? How could he move?

But there wasn't any time to think about that, and the accomplice's mind was settled on more urgent matters anyway. Like the fact that the assassin was seconds away from committing what he called a Righteous Murder. Like the fact that she was about to assist him.

A clock ticked somewhere, and then stopped.

The accomplice ran.

You'd think that after eight months, the pavement would soften, but the sound of it hitting the soles of her sneakers only seemed to get louder with every hit - no, not hit, the accomplice corrected herself. Mercy killing.

Like turning off life support. Like a light switch. Sleep tight and try not to dream.

The corner. She wouldn't be in the cover of the shadows anymore. Whatever sun was left now would unblind any given passerby. Which, really, was the entire point.

A second of hesitation. The gunshot. And she stepped calmly out, taking large, deliberate steps. Anyone would think she was just taking a walk, nothing to see here. Nobody bleeding in some back alley, no gunshot wound, no self-diagnosing smug ex-addict allowing himself a vaguely satisfied smile at his work before leaving it behind to be solved later by the same man who precisely placed the gun to his head.

Besides, gun control would never allow that kind of scenario.

The assassination was quick. Morning, Joan. A smile and a flash of silver.

What stood out to the accomplice the most was the sound. The familiar and soft scraping sound as flesh was parted, veins were given open gaping mouths. And the way she knew that the target's heartbeat was desperately closing in around his ears, loud and wet and panicking.

Also, the choking.

She didn't stay to listen.

 

Later, the assassin reprimanded her. It was clean, very clean, much too clean. Even Lestrade could figure it out. You were meant to attack, not put to sleep. He isn't a dog.

Wasn't. Wasn't a dog.

 

The accomplice couldn't tell if the assassin could still hear the gunshot singing in the back of his teeth, but she knew that if he was, he wouldn't say a word. It didn't feel so much like the entirety of the New York Police Department was in the living room when Lestrade arrived with news of a new case (a sort of stab wound to the neck, but unusual enough for him to want the assassin's help). Only half of the police eyed them suspiciously as Sherlock, ex-addict slightly-crazy consultant Sherlock, barely discussed the event with his so-called superior before flopping onto the couch. Boring. The door closing, a police department confusing their reports on orders from an assassin, the accomplice's weapon reflecting the orange sky in the sink.

No bodies were visible on the accomplice's shoulders when she followed an indecisive assassin out of his apartment.

They couldn't be there.

Not now.


End file.
